


the realm of possibility

by closingdoors



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Dialogue Heavy, F/F, What's the point of this you ask? I have no idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18966832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closingdoors/pseuds/closingdoors
Summary: "Does anyone know we're friends?"Charity smirks at her over her shoulder. "Who said we were friends?"An alternate meeting oneshot.





	the realm of possibility

"I hope you get where you're going, and be happy when you do."  
  
**On the Road, Jack Kerouac**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Oi, quit hogging!"

The seashells she deposits in her bag clink together as Vanessa turns to the source of the yell. 

Though the voice is loud, the girl is nothing more than skin and bones. Her elbows and knees protrude sharply and there's a gap between her teeth, her golden hair striking the air like a whip in the fierce sea breeze. She's a person made up of angry lines, Vanessa decides.

"There's tons of shells here," she protests.

The other girl scowls and begins to climb down to her patch of the beach. Her trainers skid slightly on the wet rocks and she skins her shins on her way down, grazing her hands as she scrabbles for purchase. She lands with a splash in the shallow pool of water, flicking water over Vanessa's bare thighs. 

"You're taking all the good ones." 

"So? You don't own this beach."

The girl puffs her chest out, hands on her hips. "Says who?" 

"The  _law,"_ Vanessa drawls, lifting the cloth drawstring bag — slightly damp and dripping — up from the soggy sand. 

"Who cares about that?" 

Vanessa just rolls her eyes, hooking one arm through the drawstrings. The shells knock around inside as she settles it onto the crook of her elbow. She passes the girl, taking care to hop between raised portions of sand to avoid getting her new shoes wet, and begins climbing the rocks back up to the main beach again.

"Hey! Where are you going?" 

Vanessa reaches the top, out of breath. She drops the bag onto the sand and stands triumphant, staring defiantly back at the girl and the sea beyond her. In the summer sun, it glimmers, sparkling like an invitation.

The girl's eyes are green, she realises, brightened by the sun. She doesn't think she's ever met anyone with real green eyes before. 

"You said I was hogging them, so now I'm leaving." 

The girl kicks at a pebble. It bounces against the shore before dipping beneath the waves unceremoniously. Then she spins, scowl morphing into mischief. She drapes her front against the rocks, soaking her t-shirt and reaching up, her hands almost touching Vanessa's toes. She grins.

"I'm Charity." 

"I'm Vanessa."

"That's posh."

"Charity's a stupid name."

Charity's grin grows wider. 

"I want a shell."

Vanessa crosses her arms. "No. These are mine. Get your own." 

Charity settles one foot on the rocks, pushing up. She yanks the drawstring bag just as Vanessa dives down to snatch it back. Vanessa's too slow and then Charity plops down, red-cheeked, holding the bag above her like a trophy.

"They're mine now." 

Vanessa huffs, sitting down and swinging her legs over the side. She watches as Charity drops the bag into the water, drenching it instantly, before she bends down on her haunches to pull it open. She stares into the bag for a moment before she begins pulling them out, one-by-one, no rhyme or reason to them. 

The August sun beats down on them and Vanessa feels sweat gathering at the back of her neck. She wipes at her forehead with her forearm. Charity continues, unbothered, her hair still snapping the air around her face like Medusa. There are almost a dozen shells in total, and she tosses the bag over her shoulder when she's done, hitting Vanessa square in the face.

Vanessa splutters as her mouth is filled with sand and sea salt. She hears Charity cackle and rips the cloth away from her face. 

"You're awful."

"You're a nerd," Charity replies, holding up one of the shells. Cuttlebone. "I mean, what d'you want with this? It's rubbish. You know there's crabs on this beach? I caught one with my hands earlier. That's way cooler than a shell. Especially when the bugger's trying to pinch your fingers off." 

"What're you stealing mine for, then?" 

Charity shrugs. "Dunno." She stands, abandoning the shells, and begins climbing the rocks up to Vanessa. "My dad used to bring me to this beach every day. Never took a stupid shell home." 

"Good for you," Vanessa retorts, gazing down wistfully at the shells already being washed back out to shore.

"I haven't seen you here before." 

"My dad said we can have chips and swim, but I don't want to get my shoes wet," she explains, shaking her feet and showing off her new —  _late_  — jelly shoes. "They're my birthday present."

"What're you, three?" 

"I'm  _eleven_ _,_ " she argues hotly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're the baby." 

The sun cuts across Charity's smile. "If you say so." 

Vanessa glances around for her dad. She'd wandered a little further astray than he'd normally let her, yet he hasn't come to find her. She's glad it's just the two of them, because if her mum were here too, she'd have to stay in sight at all times and  _definitely_ not climb any rocks.  _Climbing is for boys,_ she'd say,  _and boys are no better than apes. Are you an ape, Vanessa?_

She finally spots him, standing away from their original setup, talking to a woman at the ice cream van. Her hair is thick and bounces around her face when she laughs at a joke her dad makes. Vanessa pouts, glancing back out to the ocean.

"Dads are rubbish," she declares.

Charity nods. "Yeah."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She finds Charity walking adjacent to the shore, following a crab with a stick. Her elbows are bruised and her scowl carved deeply into her features. Vanessa hangs back for a moment, fixing her plaits.

Charity's shoelaces are untied. They were clearly once white, but now they're grey and muddied with sand. She forges on anyway, tormenting the poor crab. Vanessa wonders why she doesn't just get a new pair of trainers. The ones she's wearing are clearly falling apart. The lip of one has almost completely come away, giving a glimpse of her mint-green socks. Vanessa's mother would never allow her to wear something that resembles clothes you'd find in a jumble sale.  _Are you a street rat, Vanessa?_

"Why don't you try picking on someone your own size?"

Charity stops and the crab scuttles away into the waves. 

"Nice plaits," she says, reaching out to tug one.

Vanessa bats her hands away. Charity's still scowling despite her joking.

"Daddy dearest brought you on another day out?" Charity teases, tossing the stick into the water. "Rubbish day for it." 

She's right. The winds are strong and the skies are grey. September has arrived gloomy and monstrous. Vanessa looks up, praying that it won't rain. 

"No. I came here by myself," she explains. She'd told her mother she was visiting Jennifer Miles who lives two streets away. She's not sure how well she'd respond to her daughter befriending someone like Charity. "Do you really come here every day?" 

"Sometimes. What's it got to do with you?" 

Vanessa stamps a foot, glowering. "You're impossible." 

"Whatever." 

Charity pushes her trainers off and rolls her trousers up to her knees, revealing a few faded bruises on her shins. Without glancing back, she wades out into the undoubtedly cold sea, the grey water parting for her effortlessly. Vanessa huffs, dropping down to sit by Charity's trainers. She sits cross-legged and watches.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Charity asks without turning around. 

"Don't  _you?_ " She counters.

Charity doesn't argue. Eventually she begins to shiver and retreats from the water. They sit side-by-side, not saying a word, watching the tide slowly drift back and forth. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

When school starts up again, Vanessa doesn't have a lot of time to visit the beach. She spends most of her time attempting to make friends now that she's in secondary school and goes home to do her homework and housework. The house is big and empty with just herself and her mum inside of it, yet everything has to be wiped down, there can't be a speck of dust, or even a pair of shoes left by the front door, otherwise her mother yells. If things aren't perfect, then there's a problem.

Sometimes she looks out for Charity among the sea of uniforms at her school. She keeps waiting to spot messy hair and a cheeky grin. Eventually the months pass and she knows every face of the pupils in her year. Charity isn't one of them. She makes two other friends in after-school club instead. They're clean and neat and exactly the kinds of people her mother would approve of.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It's February, by the time she meets Charity again. She ditches after-school maths club to do so. She changes out of her uniform and stuffs it into her backpack, putting on a brave face as she walks out of the school gates and towards the bus stop.

No part of her is surprised when she spots a familiar head of bedraggled hair. What stops her in her tracks, however, is the cigarette she's holding between her lips as she cups the lighter at the end of it. Vanessa stills, considering fleeing, but then green eyes flicker over to her and it's too late.

Charity takes a slow drag of the cigarette. Vanessa begins her approach and she breathes the smoke out of her nostrils like a dragon. She holds her breath and tries not to cough when the smoke tickles the back of her throat. Charity just smirks at her. Apparently, she's not as good an actress as she thinks she is. 

"You still exist," Charity comments. She holds out the packet. "Want one?"

"How old  _are_ you?"

"Twelve. You want one or what?" 

She considers it, but shakes her head. She waits for Charity to make a snide remark. She doesn't. Surprising. 

"Why'd you come back?" 

Vanessa drops her backpack on the sand. "Why not?" 

Charity watches her. Vanessa feels her face growing warm and she straightens her shoulders. Maybe she should start wearing mascara like all the other girls in her year. Not that her mum would let her.  _Only whores wear makeup. Are you a whore, Vanessa?_

"Alright," Charity says eventually. She almost smiles.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The beach is bursting with people in the July heat. She and her friends lounge around in their swimsuits and spend their minimal pocket money on ninety-nines. They immediately head into the sea after, splashing and laughing, before Vanessa's stomach begins to turn. She abandons them and retreats back to their towels, gulping water from the bottle greedily. She lays down, sure it'll pass.

She thinks she's dreaming, when she spots Charity. Her hair is scraped back into a ponytail, smile crooked as she glances up at the boy with her. While Charity is bright and sharp, he's her counterpart. Dark and moody, hair long and sweeping in his eyes as he scowls. Charity reaches up to brush it away from his face. 

Vanessa pushes up to sit, her stomach knotting with a feeling she has no name for. She thinks she sees Charity's eyes sweep over her as she scans the crowds, trotting along besides the boy, but when she raises her hand to wave there's no recognition there. 

Eventually, she loses sight of them in the crowd. Her friends return, stomachs cramping too, and they all go home heatsick and exhausted.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

At the end of August, Charity plops down beside her on the broken pier. Their legs dangle over the edge and the afternoon sun paints the bruises on Charity's skin gentler than they are.

"Want to get a coke?" She asks.

Vanessa ends up following her from the beach to the nearby shops. Between them they have enough for one can. They place two straws — hers yellow; Charity's red — into the can and slurp from them loudly. She's ridiculously alert of how close their feet are beneath the table. 

"I saw you with a boy here." 

Charity's face scrunches up. "When?"

"Last month." 

"Oh." She gets that same crooked smile. "That's Cain."

"He's older than you."

"So?" 

Vanessa's not sure how to reply. She goes back to drinking the coke instead. There's no way her mum would ever let her spend one-on-one time with a  _boy,_ she doesn't know how Charity gets away with it. Especially an older boy.  _They only want one thing. Are you easy, Vanessa?_

"Do you kiss him?" 

Charity chokes on her sip, eyes flashing. "What?"

"I just mean — " Her tongue twists around itself, her face beginning glow red. "I don't know." 

"D'you have something against kissing, Vanessa?"

"Jamie Witlow tried to kiss me last week."

"And?"

Vanessa flips her right palm over, revealing her swollen knuckles. Charity practically shrieks with laughter and reaches out for her hand. Vanessa finds herself giggling along with her. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

In September, she finds Charity crying. 

She doesn't say a word. She unpacks the book she'd brought along for the bus ride and simply sits next to her, reading. A part of her recognises the stale stench of whiskey radiating off of her. Most of her doesn't want to acknowledge it.

A nearby group of teenagers build a fire pit and roast marshmallows over them. Charity's stomach growls loudly. Vanessa abandons her side briefly and returns with a packet of sea-side chips, which Charity picks at with shaking fingers, bony knees drawn up to her chest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Her appearances through Christmas are sporadic, and Vanessa has little to no time to herself. Her mum grows more impatient during the holiday season. As though Vanessa's to blame for the hole her dad left behind. Sometimes, she wonders if she is. If maybe she simply wasn't good enough. A daughter not worth staying for. 

She finds Charity again sometime after her thirteenth birthday. The smell of cigarettes clings to her now and her hair is less bedraggled and more of a controlled mess. Vanessa sits by the waves and does her homework as Charity throws pebbles. 

"Does anyone know we're friends?" 

Charity smirks at her over her shoulder. "Who said we were friends?" 

"Fine then," Vanessa replies, calling her bluff and beginning to pack her books away. 

"God, you're so moody. Alright, alright, we're friends." 

Except, perhaps they aren't. They rarely speak and only see each other every few months. She has no idea how to explain Charity to her friends. Actually, she knows very little about Charity. Not even her surname. She doesn't really know what they are, all she knows is that she enjoys being around her, even if the girl confuses her and betrays everything her mother has ever taught her.  _Drinks aren't for ladies. Are you a man, Vanessa?_

Vanessa settles back into her spot, opening her books again. Charity stops skipping stones. Vanessa carefully avoids looking at her, depriving her of the attention she knows she's seeking.

"I dunno why anyone would need to know. That you're my friend, I mean," Charity says. Vanessa can't resist glancing up. "They'd never let it drop that I'm hanging around with someone so posh." 

"I'm not posh." 

"You're clever." 

The tips of her ears burn. "I just work hard." 

Charity's jaw clenches and she looks away.

"Plenty of people work hard. Doesn't mean they're as lucky as you." 

"That's not what I meant," she says. "I think you're clever."

"You don't even know me." 

The springtime breeze picks up and throws Charity's hair around her shoulders. Vanessa stares at her, really  _looks,_ and thinks she's slightly plumper in the face. She's still skinny, but her boots are new and her puffer coat only relatively-worn, making her a little more put-together than the eleven year old she'd met who was all elbows. It occurs to her that she hasn't seen her smile as freely as she had on that first day. 

"No, I don't," she agrees.

It's the last time she sees Charity for years.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 _University prep,_ Veronica had called the party. Vanessa had called it a giant middle finger in her mother's face. Except she's not actually brave enough to follow-through, and now she finds herself stumbling around late at night, alcohol blurring her vision, searching for a payphone and a friend to lend a sofa for the night.

Eventually Kenny Marlow offers to let her stay at his, after she makes him promise her no funny business. He yawns on the other end and says he'll pick her up soon. Vanessa scrapes back her hair from her eyes, the world spinning, the stars dizzying in the sky above her. She feels like she's on top of the world. Maybe she  _is,_ because the stars feel so incredibly close tonight. Perhaps she's floated towards them and left the world behind. Left her mother and her expectations for the perfect daughter. Oh, what a dream. 

An angular face with piercing green eyes swims into her vision. The face is familiar, but changed. Sharper somehow. There's a ring of heavy black eyeliner around the green, harsh red blush painted along the cheekbones. 

Charity smirks. "You alright, kid?" 

Vanessa lists forwards. Charity catches her by the elbows.

"Woah. How much have you had?" 

"Dunno. But it's brilliant. Isn't it brilliant?" 

"What's that, then?" 

"Everything's all... _woosh_ ," she whispers, waving a hand in the air and wiggling her fingers. Charity raises her eyebrows. "Hey, I thought you'd disappeared."

"Guess I did," Charity murmurs, her eyebrows pinching together.

"No. Don't be sad." She thumbs the wrinkle on Charity's forehead, smoothing it away. "I looked for you, but you were never there. I'm happy you're okay. Did you forget about me?" 

For some reason, the question makes Charity laugh. Vanessa gradually becomes aware of Charity's hand pressed against the small of her back, keeping her upright. She finds herself being shepherded towards a nearest wall. She begins to protest, but sags against it nonetheless. Charity still hovers by her, ready to catch her in case she falls. She considers falling. 

"What're you doing wandering about by yourself, babe? Thought you'd spend your Friday nights with your books." 

Vanessa pouts. "Actually, I went to a party _._ " 

The words mash themselves together in her mouth, escaping as a jumble. Charity simply shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but it isn't unkind. Vanessa finds herself leaning in, peering, studying. Although she clearly has a woman's figure now, Charity's frighteningly small. She's all lines again. But someone's coloured her in wrong, drawn over her, she can tell. 

"Thought you'd go for a midnight stroll after?"

"I can't go home," she says, and laughter tumbles out of her, edging close to hysterical as she imagines her mother's reaction to her current drunken state. "I hate home." 

"Don't. At least you have one." 

Vanessa sighs, the laughter fading. She reaches up and tangles her fingers in the end of Charity's hair. It's soft, which surprises her. 

"What happened to you, Charity?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about me."

"But I  _do._ I do worry about you." 

Charity softens. She likes the look of it on her. She wears affection well, like a second skin. 

No, that's not true. It's just wishful thinking, she realises. Charity wears barbed wire like a second skin. The affection is buried deep down, hidden. Maybe even Charity herself doesn't know it's there. The thought saddens her more than she'd like to admit.

"So, if you can't go home, where are you going?" 

"Kenny's house."

Charity raises an eyebrow. "A boyfriend?" 

Vanessa laughs brightly, clutching Charity for support. Charity stumbles under her weight. 

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Why's that ridiculous?"

"Because — "

She stops, blinking. Charity watching her curiously, tilting her head, dangerous and kind all at once under the streetlight. 

Vanessa surges forwards, catching her lips with her own. It's clumsy and their teeth knock together, and just as she regains her balance Charity jerks away, holding her at arms-length with her hands planted firmly on Vanessa's shoulders.

"You really are drunk." 

Vanessa finds treacherous tears burning in her eyes before she can stop them. Her nose stings. 

"Don't tell anyone," she pleads, "Charity, please — I can't be — "

Although Charity still keeps her distance, she pets Vanessa's hair lightly. She gives her a smile too full of understanding that Vanessa herself can't understand, which only makes the knot of anxiety in her chest wind tighter. Oh, God. What has she done? 

"S'alright, babe. Secret's safe with me." 

But the tears don't stop. She's blubbering, embarrassing and loud and ugly. Some part of her is distantly aware that her emotions are only exacerbated by the alcohol. She keeps hoping that part of her will regain control, but it doesn't. She simply stands there, mascara streaking down her cheeks, Charity's hands on her shoulders.

She barely gets herself under control when Kenny's car pulls up. She'd recognise that beat-up, un-roadworthy car anywhere. He pulls up beside them and rolls down the window, eyeing Charity cautiously. Vanessa can barely see Charity's answering scowl through her tears and takes a deep breath, smudging away her tears with her palms. 

"You alright, Nessa?" He calls.

"Nessa," Charity snorts.

Kenny's eye twitches. "Get in the car." 

Charity guides her towards the passenger seat, but just as she goes to open the door, Vanessa turns in her arms. Their chests brush and Charity exhales sharply, her breath washing over Vanessa's neck. She's sure her skin has never felt so alight in all her life.

"How will I find you?" She asks thickly.

Charity shakes her head. "Babe — "

"Please. Don't disappear again." 

Her words fall on deaf ears. Charity reaches past her and opens the door, gently manoeuvring her inside. Kenny reaches over to do her seatbelt, knocking Charity's hands out of the way. Vanessa waits for Charity to argue with him, for her personality to fill the car and all the space beyond that, but she keeps silent instead. Vanessa keeps her eyes on her the whole time, just watching her, this girl-turned-woman-turned-girl.

Charity pulls away, one hand resting on the roof of the car and the other on the edge of the door. 

She gives Vanessa a crooked smile.

"See you around, Ness," she says softly.

She closes the door and Kenny can't drive away fast enough. The tyres practically squeal. Vanessa's stomach lurches and she has to close her eyes and grip the seat just to stop herself from emptying her stomach contents on the dashboard. 

"Slow down," she protests weakly.

"Slow down? No, how about you tell me what the hell you're doing hanging around with prostitutes at one in the morning?"

Her eyes snap open.

"What?" 

Kenny shakes his head. "You're so bloody naïve sometimes, Nessa. That corner is rife with 'em. Plus you can just tell. Skirt was so short you could practically see what she had for breakfast."

Vanessa realises she's going to cry again. 

"Oh," she says quietly.

"Yeah, _oh_ ," Kenny snaps, and launches into a lecture about how dangerous it is to wander the streets at night, and  _who the hell let her out of their sight, anyways?_

But she's stopped listening. She turns to the window, blinking away the tears. They're few and far between this time, but still run hot and burn her cheeks. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When she and Rhona go for graduation drinks, she spots a head of blonde hair across the bar. She stops temporarily, staring, captivated. Rhona touches her shoulder, asks if everything's alright, and then the head of blonde hair turns towards her and she realises it isn't Charity. It's relieving and it isn't. 

She and Rhona end up taking turns holding back each other's hair that night. Someone takes a photo of Vanessa's head down the toilet and she sends it to her mother in the post.  _Are you a drunkard, Vanessa? Are you an embarrassment?_

Her voice is shrill and bitter through the telephone. Vanessa laughs.

"I am so many things, mother," she responds, and thinks of all the times she'd lie and scheme just to find her way down to the beach. How she'd sit and simply watch Charity most of the time, warmth growing in her chest. She thinks about the smell of salt water and the way sand feels between her toes. How a woman's lips feel against hers. "None of it is embarrassing." 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Hey. Quit hogging."

Vanessa dangles her legs over the edge of the rocks. Charity glances up, a starfish in hand. Her brow furrows when she takes her in at first, as though she's struggling how to react, but she eventually settles on a smile.

"Did you know that these things get washed up because of storms?" Charity asks, brandishing the dead starfish between them. "They don't beach themselves on purpose." 

"I know."

"It's sad."

"Yeah," she agrees quietly.

Charity gingerly walks through the small pool of water until it meets the sea. She leans down and gently places the starfish back in the water. The waves take it, calm and careful despite the late hour. 

Charity turns and climbs the rocks. She's sure-footed. Reaches her in no time, sitting down right beside her. 

"So," she begins, "where are you in life, Vanessa?" 

"I graduated. I'm a vet. My mother isn't speaking to me, her disgraceful lesbian daughter, and my dad's in prison. So I s'pose it balances out."

"Yeah, well, my mum offed herself and my dad beat me as a kid. I win."

"No. I don't think either of us win."

Charity dips her head. Her hair is a bleach-blonde now, a little over-the-top, but she's still every each as beautiful as Vanessa remembers. The hair obscures her face but Vanessa reaches out and pushes it away. She can see the way Charity tries to process the affection in her mind. Catalogues it. Dissects it. Tries to find the motive; the reason. As if preparing for attack. As though her body is a battlefield.

"Why didn't you tell me? About your dad?" She asks softly.

"Why didn't you tell me about your mum?"

"It isn't the same."

"Neglect is neglect."

She thinks about Charity under that streetlight. Too skinny. Too young. Beautiful, still, but her stomach rolls whenever she thinks about that night. God knows how many drunken men grabbed her as roughly as she did. Maybe she'd just added herself to a list of people who'd treated Charity badly.

"I wish I could've helped you."

Charity shakes her head. "We were kids. There's nothing either of us could've done."

The waves wash against the sand quietly.

"Are you okay now?" Vanessa asks. "Do you still..." 

Charity meets her eyes. There's a flicker of disappointment in them, but not aimed at Vanessa. She thought the sex work had been something that had slipped past Vanessa's radar, she realises. 

Vanessa holds her gaze. She doesn't judge Charity for what she had to do to survive. In fact, she admires her for it. God knows it takes a hell of a lot of willpower and bravery to live like that. To fight to survive in a world that's been nothing but cruel and unfair. Sometimes, she thinks, that's the thing that draws her most to Charity. Her unwavering desire to live.

"No, I don't," Charity replies steadily. "I'm actually, uh, heading to this little village some of my family live in. Might start my life over. Clean break, y'know." 

"That's good." 

Charity nods. 

"You know, you never answered my question when we were kids," Vanessa thinks out loud. "You never told me why you stole my seashells." 

She glances up to the moon. It's a half-moon tonight, pale and silver in the sky. 

"Ever heard of the little boy pulling the little girl's pigtails?" Charity replies softly.

Vanessa turns with questions on her lips, but they're covered by Charity's. Vanessa melts into the kiss tasting sea salt and something else, something tart on her tongue. Something uniquely her. Charity's hand rises to cup the back of her head, threading her fingers through her hair. 

When they break apart, she feels Charity's eyelashes flutter against her forehead.

"Oh," she murmurs.

Charity grins, carefree.

"Yeah," she returns, "oh."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"This village, then," Vanessa says, once she gets her breath back, "is it close by?" 

"Why? You planning on visiting me?" Charity asks, but then she kisses her, which is a whole other level of distraction, and she loses herself in the feel of Charity's lips for a few minutes, her fingers climbing the ladder of her ribs.

Charity gives her a quick grin afterwards and rolls off of her, sprawled across the mattress. Vanessa's not sure where to look. She'd longed for the sight of Charity's naked body for so long without really realising it and even now, after kissing her,  _touching_ her, she's captivated. She distantly wonders if Charity's a siren. That'd explain why she'd always found her at the beach, after all, and she wouldn't be surprised if she'd found men had flung themselves to the depths of the ocean to catch a glimpse of her beauty.

"I could, you know," she continues. "Visit you." 

Charity props herself up on her elbow, brushing a strand of hair away from Vanessa's face.

"Nah," she whispers. "You've got a bright future, kid. Why waste it on me?" 

Argument rises to the tip of her tongue, but Charity shakes her head, and Vanessa lets it go. There are big words she could give her; grand statements and promises. Truthfully, she doesn't know enough about Charity to give them to her. 

She's in love with her — or the idea of her — or maybe both. Maybe this is enough.

"This has been fun, though. Right little seductress, you are. Thought you might be." 

Vanessa can't prevent the pride she exudes, grinning. "You thought about me, then?" 

Charity rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, alright. Maybe I did." 

Charity leans back down onto the pillow and Vanessa twines their fingers together. She raises them so that she can study the way their palms meet. She can feel Charity's eyes, sharp and inquisitive, watching her every move.

"Maybe I thought about you too," she adds softly, and she doesn't need to look at Charity to know she's smiling.

In the morning, Charity's gone. Vanessa dresses and leaves the hotel alone, and it doesn't hurt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The village she moves to over a decade later is small and somewhat remote, but Rhona all but begs her to help them out at the vets. Truthfully, Vanessa hasn't really got anything else going on. So she moves, butts heads with Paddy, and treats more cows than she'd care to, and eventually buys a slice of the business.

Charity appears on the doorstep to the vets as Vanessa's opening up one morning. She's barely opened the door by a crack before Charity's on her, pushing her flat against the wall. It's rushed and a little frantic and by the time Vanessa's pulling her clothes back on, the surgery is due to open. She stays pressed against Charity instead, her lips against her cheek. 

"What are you doing here?"

Charity snorts. "Babe, this is  _my_ village." 

"Really? You're not just having me on?" 

"Oh, I'm having you on alright," she retorts, squeezing Vanessa's backside, "but not about this." 

There's a knock at the door. Vanessa can be nothing but grateful that she hadn't yet opened the blinds this morning. When she attempts to unwrap herself from Charity, the woman tugs her closer, practically pulling her into her lap as she slumps against the desk. 

"There's some things you'll find out about me. If you live here. Things I'd rather you didn't know," Charity adds.

Vanessa squeezes her shoulders. She doesn't think it's possible that she wouldn't want to know everything and anything about this beguiling woman. 

"Like what?" She asks softly. 

Charity glances away. "I have a kid. Couple of 'em. One's Debbie. Dingle. I had her when I was thirteen — she's Cain's." She hesitates, but Vanessa keeps quiet. "I've been married a bunch of times. I mess with marriages a lot. I've been to prison... that's where I was recently, actually." 

Charity watches Vanessa carefully. She focuses on keeping her expression neutral. 

"It sounds like you have a lot of stories to tell," she settles on saying. "Later, maybe." 

The knock, a little more impatient this time, comes again, as if to punctuate her statement. Charity quirks a smile and gives her a quick, searing kiss.

"Alright. Later, then."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"What's this?" Rhona asks innocently, sweeping Vanessa's hair to the side. 

Vanessa clamps her hand over her neck, cheeks warming. 

"Nothing."

Rhona gasps, pulling her back into the treatment room and letting the doors close behind them, hiding the pair of them from the curious eyes of the waiting room — and Pearl. She has a giddy sort of grin as she pushes Vanessa's hand away and examines the hickey.

"That's  _fresh._ Vanessa! Have you been keeping secrets from me?" 

"No — well, sort of. She's an old flame. Someone I've been — " she stops herself, and sighs. "Someone I've known since I was a kid. I had a big crush on her growing up, and, well, we just sort of bumped into each other." 

Rhona's eyes widen like saucers. "Here? In the village?" 

"No," she lies, palms clammy. She knows the Dingles. She knows the sort of reputation they have here, and if Charity's one of them, then she'll undoubtedly be someone Rhona will warn her against. She could do without the lecture. "She was just passing through. I doubt I'll see her again." 

"Aw, that's a shame. Still, how romantic is that, eh? Seeing each other after all those years?" 

"Yeah, dead romantic. Especially on Pearl's desk," Vanessa comments dryly.

Rhona turns a shade of green and swats at Vanessa with her clipboard.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Later_ turns out to be a couple weeks. Vanessa doesn't mind the wait at all — they've already been doing this strange dance for years, after all.

Charity lets herself in through the backdoor and they stumble up the stairs in a tangle of limbs and half-shed clothes. Charity muffles her laughter against Vanessa's neck when she stubs her toe on the bed frame and Vanessa presses her own against the skin of her thigh when Charity knocks her head against the headboard. It's the messiest, most ridiculous encounter she's ever had with the woman. 

The moon filters in through the net curtains as Charity dresses after, her back to Vanessa. Vanessa lets her finger run down Charity's spine, over each ridge of vertebrae, and curls her index finger in the waistband of Charity's underwear, tugging.

"Do you always do this?" She asks. "Leave?"

Charity's pulls her t-shirt over her head, then touches her chin to her shoulder. Vanessa can't make out where she's looking. She's just a silhouette in the silver light.

"It's sort of my M.O, babe." 

Charity stands, pulling her jeans on. Vanessa sighs and Charity hesitates.

"I don't do relationships," Charity says, unprompted. "Not anymore." 

"I haven't ever had one. Not really," Vanessa confesses, wrinkling her nose. "Can I ask you something?" 

"Knock yourself out." 

"Debbie — is she why you disappeared? Because you had her?" 

Charity goes still. Vanessa pushes the duvet back, making an inviting space for her. She can practically hear the cogs ticking in her brain. Eventually, Charity caves, and settles into bed with her once more. She doesn't lay down. She sits cross-legged, face turned towards the window.

"My dad made me give her away. After that he kicked me out. That's why I disappeared." 

"I'm sorry," she offers quietly. "You beat him, though. You found her again."

Charity's face turns away from the window. God, she wishes she could see her properly.

"And you," Charity murmurs.

"Yeah. And me," Vanessa adds, her throat tight around the words. She reaches out and rests a hand on Charity's jean-clad knee. "Stay?" 

There's a moment where she almost thinks Charity might reject her request. She feels her pulse beat strongly in her throat. 

Then Charity shifts, stripping herself of her clothes once more and flinging them to the floor with no regard for where they land. When she slips under the sheets, Vanessa doesn't reach for her, carefully allowing her space. But Charity curls towards her anyway, roping her arms around Vanessa until she's pressed against her chest. Vanessa's not entirely sure what she had expected, but she hadn't anticipated Charity to hold her as softly as she does now.

"I'll break your heart," Charity warns.

"Maybe I'll break yours."

Charity laughs against her hair and Vanessa reaches up to half-heartedly swat at her.

"Hey. It's not outside the realm of possibility." 

"It's not," Charity agrees, and Vanessa's already slipping into sleep when she adds, "maybe we'll even be happy, this time around."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"I met a girl here."

Vanessa turns, squinting against the sunlight, seashell in hand. Charity's sitting at the top of the rocks and pushes her sunglasses up into her wild mane of hair, back straight and shoulders square when Vanessa's eyes land on her.

"Oh yeah? What was she like?" Vanessa asks.

"Gobby," she retorts, flicking her hair when Vanessa rolls her eyes. "Gorgeous. Always coming and going... mostly going."

Vanessa sets the seashell into her bag. It's almost full. She pulls on the drawstring and the bag closes, keeping the array of shells inside. 

"Don't you think she was only going so she could come back?" 

Charity's eyes are almost sad. "She should've just kept going." 

Vanessa's slippery feet push against the rocks, until she can climb up, back onto the main beach with Charity. She drops the bag beside her and it lands with a loud  _clunk_. Neither of them pay attention. Vanessa's too busy climbing into Charity's lap. She threads her fingers through Charity's hair, bumping her sunglasses off, and tilts her face up to meet hers in the sunlight.

"She did," Vanessa says, "she kept going after you." 

  

 

 


End file.
